


Day 10. Flowing | Run Run Push it Away

by steadycoffeeflow (Salimity)



Series: Inktober 2018 [10]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Inktober 2018, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Mania, Mental Illness is a Trip, OC's - Freeform, References to Depression, Self-Insert, Underage Drinking, world mental health day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 09:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16741048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salimity/pseuds/steadycoffeeflow
Summary: Written for World Mental Health Day. Personal freeform with the use of my original character and electroheartx's Reese, their RK900 OC.





	Day 10. Flowing | Run Run Push it Away

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was supposed to be about Leo and his addictions, in the framework of J&H. I didn’t want to write that. Maybe another time. Instead, we get my self-insert character from my DBH roleplay discord server. She seemed easier to slip into and deal with.
> 
> Reese belongs to [electroheartx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/electroheartx/pseuds/electroheartx).

 

 

_ Osmosis:  _ _ a process by which molecules of a solvent tend to pass through a semipermeable membrane from a less concentrated solution into a more concentrated one, thus equalizing the concentrations on each side of the membrane. _

The concept was something Steady knew they’d gone over in high school AP Bio class. She could picture it, as if a mere decade hadn’t passed her by at all. Mr. Brett who was a portly and pleasant man with a full, pepper-salt beard who always referred to himself in the third person. They were setting up an experiment that involved potato slices.

Damn if Steady could remember what the results were. Just one thing stuck out to her: homeostasis and equilibrium. Needing to have a balance.

And as she sipped from her coffee mug - laden with Irish cream and vodka, her fingers feeling heavy and mind slipping even farther away - she considered that. Mulled it over. Fixated on the idea.

Having a balance. Two solutions. One lacking and the other too much. Too much of what varied. Energy. Electricity. Food dye. It didn’t matter what - it was just Too Much. A lot. Excess. It needed to be burned off, in the case of energy. Spread and shared around in the case of dye.

One side, flowing into the other. Filling in for the lack and spreading out what was too much. It sounded...nice. Peaceful. The type of ideal tranquility that would strike her on some odd Thursday night, an ordinary day out of ordinary days, and make her begin to weep, curling in on herself.

Steady watched, eyes languid, as Mr. Brett put the potato slices in the water, then took another sip of the syrup, letting it sting her tongue pleasantly.

\---

One time, just before college started, Steady had been struck by the idea that she  _ needed _ to go camping. Had made it to the door with her old tent pack gear, a couple days’ worth of food and a fishing pole. She didn’t even know if there would be water where she was going. Didn’t even know where she was going. Said as much when her mother asked. Both parents had flown into rages at that, thinking she was running away. Hell if Steady even knew where she was running to, let alone away from, just knew she needed to  _ run _ .

It happened another time, when she was still working in Detroit. This one had an impulse. ‘New York State of Mind’ by Billy Joel came on the radio, cutting through the static of the afternoon and information technology article write-ups. Steady  _ had _ to go to New York. Could see it so clearly, her sitting on a bench, watching the taxi lanes clog up, observing the people on their phones and in their nice clothes with her darting eyes. She’d only seen the city on the news, for New Year celebrations, in the older shows before the century.

She got to the receptionist when he’d joked:  _ “Taking a second lunch?” _

She’d frozen, hand raised to push the handle, but not quite touching it. The spell broken, she laughed at him. “Just putting my bag in the car. Thinking of taking a walk to wake up.” Nodded. Accepted.  _ Normal _ response.

She had to be more  _ normal _ .

\---

There was that other time at college, her mind pivoted to next. She’d stayed up, drifting into hour-long naps once every 24-hour period because, distantly, she knew she needed some rest, and all she’d been doing was writing. Writing writing writing until her wrists were aching with the force of creation.

Then, she crashed for 32 hours, unable to move. When she woke up, groggy and head stuffed full of pain, she’d called home. Explained what had happened.

_ ‘Oh honey, you’re just creative _ .’

But this was different than all-nighters in high school. Each new idea had been something to explore, a  _ compulsion _ she had to explore. It was frightening, getting swept up in a tide of creation. Usually the process was freeing. This...this was something else. She was skipping class, realizing only when it was dark out that she hadn’t left to go to the dining hall, that someone - her roommate - had asked if she wanted to go. Then snuck a plate back. Bought a sandwich using Steady’s ID. Put a bottle of water snugged up on the pillow with a smiley face on a sticky note and Steady couldn’t answer her own question: When had that gotten there? When did you last drink water? Shower? Eat? Use the bathroom?

People joked.  _ ‘Who’s your supplier, eh?’ _

\---

Who knew how long Reese had been standing there. Not Steady, that was for sure. She jumped when she noticed him leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed and a slight crease to his brow. “Heya,” she said, chipper.

“You do this often?” he asked, processing something.

Steady looked around the kitchen. “Cook? Yes. I need to eat food, Reese,” she snorted, going back to slicing the peppers.

“Are you cooking for an army? Was there a new upgrade I didn’t know about, where androids have to eat too?”

Steady bristled a bit. Reese wasn’t laughing. Wasn’t brushing it off. Which meant she’d misstepped.  _ Shit _ .

Taking inventory of the counter, she tried to think if this was excessive. Was it too much? There was the crockpot with the chili simmering away on low. Had been for the past three hours. Still needed another five or so, which meant it would be ready for her to take to work. Then, she still had pepper left, so she was slicing those up to fry for a fajita mix she’d cook up once the chili vacated the crock pot.

This all had a logical, clear progression.

Steady looked confused at Reese, to see if he was going to fill in any gaps she was missing.

“Are you going to eat that all tonight, or will you be feasting in your dreams?” he asked, holding out his hands at the mess.

Steady followed the hand motions instead of looking at Reese’s face. Whenever she did look at him, she found herself drawn to his chin, or maybe the wave of his hair or the tattoos he had. Or just the knife in her hand - that was a good idea - to keep an eye on that.

“I mean,” she said, mumbling it now. Voice lower than she needed it to be. Had to pitch it up. Sound like she wasn’t affected - to be like how she normally was. “I’m just not tired. Must be the coffee, whoops.”

Reese frowned. Folded his arms. Watched her. “Steads. The last cup of coffee you had was this morning.”

The blade skipped on the pepper skin. The blade was dull. Knew she had to watch it, or she’d graze her knuckles, slice a fingertip. “Should cut it out entirely,” she replied, smiling ruefully. “Last doc suggested I go straight decaf if I needed to have my hot drink fix. I never went back to him though. He was kind of funny looking you know, and said some things I just didn't agree with. I mean, it's not like I don't trust doctors I just sometimes feel like they...”

Reese nodded. Didn’t say anything until Steady was working on the third and final pepper to slice, mouth moving but the brain forgetting to keep track of what she was saying. The pile was consuming the counter space, thin, uneven strips of it falling off the cutting board. “Well, are you going to need help cleaning up…?”

He moved to the sink and Steady jolted. “No.”

Her cry rang out. Probably alerted Rose and Aria. She winced, sucking air through her teeth as she bowed her head over the pepper. “Don’t. I’m good. I’ll clean up after myself.”

“That’s a lot of mess,” Reese started to protest.

“Don’t.”

“Okay.” He relented easy, likely had only been offering to be polite.

Steady eased up, then scooped the peppers up, dropping them into a waiting, warm pan. She turned up the heat, added a dash of butter, then turned to the flank steak. She’d used about half for the chili. Could sear it nicely with the fajita mix. Keep that on low for another-

“It’s nice to see you up and about. Last two weeks you spent on the couch,” Reese said.

Steady shrugged. She was missing something. Something about this scene was odd to him. She had to figure it out, smooth it down, fill in the crack somehow.

Reese patted the island counter. “Well, looks like you’ll be a minute or two. Mind if I…?”

“Go for it,” Steady said, smiling. Forgot why she’d been worried anyway. Probably just paranoid. Nothing to worry about. She busied herself slicing up the beef. Methodical. After a couple of minutes, her mouth began to move of its own accord again. Filled in the cracks. And Reese listened. Listened to her story about high school AP biology as she trimmed the fat from the meat. Soaked it in when she relayed the story about camping back in Detroit as she stirred the peppers, appreciating how they were sweating down and charring the bottom of the pan. Tilted his head as he considered her story about wanting to travel to New York.

“Is that why you’re here now?” Reese asked.

“What?”

“New York. Now. Rose hasn’t mentioned how you two met yet.”

“Oh. No. That’s not - I’m. That’s something else, I mean. I always wanted to go to New York, who doesn’t. There was this one time we were going to see a Broadway performance, actually, but the trip just didn’t work out so we went to the local Apple Diner Theater in my hometown instead. Gosh that was such a good - my friend was in it? She was great. Knew her from high school. She used to sneak out with me during lunch breaks. Always smoked. I never did. I mean the harder shit. Sometimes I get a nicotine hit.” Steady shrugged, pushed the meat into the pan. “Wonder what happened to her.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! I mean, we had a falling out. People always have falling outs with me.” A tightness overtook Steady’s chest and her eyes stung. Must be the peppers. No - that was onions. “Misunderstandings and the like. They get tired. But…” Where had she been going? Right, the play! “It was Wicked! She had the role of the witch…”

And as Steady bustled about in the early hours of the morning, limbs, chest, fingers, heart -  _ mind _ \- racing with electricity, Reese listened. He inclined his head this way and that, shrugged, flashed his palms, wrinkled his nose that caused the tattoos to crinkle.

Outside the night pressed in, chilling and tran -  _ We should decorate the house for Halloween. Just the inside should be fine. Not too attention grabbing. I can go shopping after work and- _ quil in its absolute pitch blackness.

And things felt just right.


End file.
